[FIC] Pirates
Title: Pirates
Genre: Romance
Word Count: 3,093
Rating/Warnings: T/none
Summary: Alfred is kidnapped by a group of eccentric pirates that include a mysterious captain who Alfred seemed to know...
a/n: I got really tired of this story halfway through and tried to add random action scenes/backstory. -_- That’s a bad sign, isn’t it?
Uh... horrible ending, by the way, and general crappy writing all the way. If you're reading this... Good luck!
“Hey! This totally constitutes as kidnapping, I just hope you know that! And tying me up with ropes-completely uncivilized! It is so not the way you should treat a hero! Wait till I get out of here and beat you black and blue! Hey! Hey! Are you even listening to me? HEY!”
“Can you please put a gag on that thing?” the man with the hook said to one of his subordinates. “He is giving me a bloody migraine.”
But when the underling tried, Alfred bit his fingers.
“Not gonna happen, nuh-uh, no way. You put that thing away from me-that’s right, boy! Geez, you people really need a lesson on proper behavior and mannerism. Back in my home country, everyone is taught to be respected and treated as equal! Freedom and liberty, hell yeah! Come to think of it, why are you guys driving a ship around the sea in this kind of weather? Look at that cloud-it’s clearly gonna rain. Don’t tell me you guys only wear bandanas and eyepatches! Hell, you’re totally screwed. I just hope-”
“The first person who can get our dear prisoner to shut up,” the captain said, his thick eyebrows twitching dangerously like a murderous caterpillar, “will receive one hundred gold coins.”
The dozen of pirates onboard all suddenly grinned at Alfred as if he became their best friend.
“Fine!” Alfred’s voice suddenly became very high. “I’ll shut up-Ah, crap, I’m still talking-I mean-”
The pirate closest to him started sharpening his nails with a knife.
“Shutting up now,” he squeaked.
“Good.” When the crewmates looked at their captain expectantly, he said, “A hundred gold coins for each and every one of you for your work.”
They cheered.
Alfred, silent for perhaps the first time of his life, began pondering how he had gotten into this situation.
Just how had he woken up tied up against the mast of a pirate ship?
Let’s see... That morning, he was at his tutor’s house for some (bleh) tests, so that was out. Then, he had gone by his father’s office to deliver a parcel after lunch-that was out. After that, he returned home to look for his friend Kiku, who was staying at his place. Kiku would never sell him to the pirates, so that wasn’t it. What happened after that? Oh, yes. Kiku told him he had never drunk before, and Alfred had been so surprised that he insisted his best friend to try some alcohol at once. Despite Kiku’s protests, he had dragged him out of the house and hightailed for Cabin Rob’s...
Then what happened? he thought.
Hm.
This part of his memory was incredibly hazy. Closing his eyes, he attempted to block out all of the noises-the idle talks of the working pirates, the lapping of waves against ship-and tried to remember.
What flashed through his mind was: a drunken brawl, Alfred laughing, Kiku trying to calm him down, a flash of knives, scars on faces, laughter, someone singing, a black eye patch, a fist to the face, and a cute girl with bushy eyebrows tearing off her wig...
Then, everything became crystal clear.
“You were the cross-dresser!” he gasped. If he could’ve moved his finger, he would be pointing it at the ship captain with every ounce of indignation he could manage. “You tried to flirt with me! Wait, why did you try to flirt with me? And where’s Kiku? What did you do with him?”
Alfred realized he was supposed to be quiet, but he couldn’t care less about scary pirates and their scary knives at the moment. Kiku could be in danger right then! A hero got to do what a hero got to do.
He suddenly realized that someone was behind him, breathing into his neck and-more importantly-holding a knife to his throat.
“Darling,” the captain’s voice drawled, “if I were you, I’d try harder to please the men holding you captive and worry less about your little friend.”
“Where-is-he?” Alfred huffed out, trying not to breathe too hard. He wanted to seem heroic and defiant, but all he managed to do was sound like an overweight boy who had just run the marathon.
The captain paused for a bit and then released his knife.
“If you meant Kiku to be the black-haired boy who was with you,” he said, his footsteps fading away, “he’s a lot safer than you are right now. We did not touch him.” Then, to his crewmates, he yelled, “I’m going to my cabin to study some maps. Anyone who disturbs me will be shot in the groin. Also, untie him.” Alfred didn’t know the captain meant him until someone sliced his ropes open. “Make no mistake, prisoner. This freedom you’re granted comes with a price. Start talking without my permission again, and I’ll make you walk the plank. As for everyone else who is smirking right now, keep doing that and you can kiss your gold goodbye.”
And with that, a door was slammed.
For a second, Alfred merely considered the bizarreness of it all. He stared at the ship, stared at the cut ropes that pooled at his feet, and stared at the pirates.
Finally, somewhere amidst all this staring, a man with red eyes started to laugh.
“Looks like someone’s in looove!” he cackled.
A pirate slapped him quiet.
~.*.~
“So,” Alfred said, staring at the tiny bowl of porridge he was offered, “you guys are pirates.”
So far, he had learned two important things:
One, the captain of this ship was called Arthur Kirkland.
Two, save for the gold-loving attitude, everyone on the ship was surprisingly friendly.
“Yes,” the man with the mole-who Alfred had learned was called Roderich-said daintily. “I suppose you can say that.”
“Oh, but don’t worry. We’ve only came to this business recently,” added Elizabeta. Alfred had come to know her as the woman with the frying pan. “We mainly specialize in searching for treasures, golden chests buried in islands and everything. We don’t usually, um, steal and plunder, as people like to call it. Yesterday was our first time kidnapping. You’re our first victim.” She smiled.
Alfred blinked. “Oh... thanks. I guess. If you, uh, don’t mind me asking, what do you plan on doing with me?”
Several of the pirates looked away uncomfortably.
“Well,” Elizabeta said, “I think we’re supposed to ransom you-”
“Not happening,” Alfred said immediately. “My father recently lost his position as Duke of the Court. My family is in a financial crisis. Ain’t no way they are going to spend what money they have on my.” He scratched his head sheepishly. “And I kind of spent the last of my allowance in the beer hall yesterday.”
“We know,” Gilbert said grumpily. There was a fading red palm imprinted on his left cheek. He was also the man who had been guarding Alfred when he was tied up. “We searched your pockets. Your clothes were patched, and there were no changes in your pocket. There was no way a young heir to a lord would be that shabby. Hmph, I told you we should’ve gotten someone else.”
“What he’s trying to say is,” Elizabeta cut in, slight irritation in her voice, “we’re very sure Captain Kirkland got you on this ship for a very specific reason. We just wish-”
Suddenly, someone’s voice called out from above: “Ship spotted in the northeast! I repeat, ship spotted in the east!”
Elizabeta stood up, readying her frying pan with a very warlike pose. “Who is it, Tino?”
“It’s...” The man sitting in the crow’s nest squinted his eyes. “Believe it or not, it’s probably the Armada.”
The pirates were instantly worked into frenzy, scurrying across the deck like ants on a hot pan. Alfred tried to get a sense of what was going on.
“What is the-”
“Our ship name is Elizabeth, and our rival’s name is the Armada,” Roderich explained simply. “You’d best hurry along downstairs. A battle is about to break out.”
The door leading to the captain’s cabin burst open.
“HARD A-STARBOARD!” roared Captain Kirkland. “We’ll be meeting those scoundrels straight on. Heave ahead!”
“Can you give those directions in regular English?” asked Gilbert, who was at the steer.
Arthur slapped a hand on his forehead.
“Turn right, you dolt!”
Alfred watched as Gilbert turned the wheel as hard as he could and, just like clockwork, the massive ship began to change its course. But he still could not see the rival ship, as it was called.
He felt something wet fall on his nose. At first, he mistook it for water droplets carried over by the sea breeze. Looking up, however, he realized that it was raining.
Soon, lightning flashed across the dark skies, and thunder boomed in the air. The pirates, however, were unfazed and kept their eyes and fingers on whatever they were doing, whether it be manning the cannons or turning the masts.
“PRISONER!” the captain shouted. “Give way or you’ll know well what’s coming for you.”
Numbly, Alfred nodded and hurried down to the hull of the ship.
~.*.~
No matter how many times Alfred replayed the scene later in his mind, he would never get over how surreal the battle felt like. He wouldn’t believe that he had survived through such an ordeal.
He had walked down the stairs from the deck, fully intending to duck down somewhere nice and dark and whimper like a little boy. But then he found a window and, despite it all, looked through it.
There was a ship now, he could see it clearly once he mopped away the raindrops on his spectacles. The rival Armada was at least six stories tall and, from all Alfred could gather, at least as large as this ship. Alfred watched as Armada drifted closer, swaying in the rough, gray sea like looming doom.
The first shot was fired by Elizabeth. The cannonball soared across the clouds, a mere speck of dust in the incomprehensible heavens. Yet, when struck the Armada’s mast, it looked as if someone had ripped a giant, gaping hole out of the fabric. The force was fearsome.
The Armada fired a returning shot, but it was a miss. Alfred heard the ship crew cheering above him, but he had no intention of joining. The two ships were edging even closer, and Alfred wondered if he would survive past that hour.
God, this is madness, he thought, but he couldn’t move an inch away from the window. There was something morbidly fascinating about having the personification of your impending death coming toward you in such a fashion. Alfred couldn’t tear his eyes away.
And even more strangely, it all felt so familiar.
Alfred had grown up in an aristocratic family with his twin brother, Matthew, so there was never a chance for him to even go on a boat. He had learned about navies and pirates in the epics he read and the paintings he had seen, all praising the men who had the ability to tame Mother Nature most rigorous terrain, but to see it an action was a completely different story. It electrified his heart, and somehow, he felt as if he... belonged. That was why he simply could not shut up when he woke up. The excitement was enough to drive him hyper like a sugar-high child.
And the truth was, last night, when Arthur had dressed up as a woman to flirt with Alfred, it was Alfred who had let it happen, not the pirate captain. Even in his drunken haze, he could still make out those green eyes and bushy eyebrows and, just like the sea, he felt as if he had been hit over the head with some sort of odd sense of déjà vu. That was why, when that mysterious girl had pointed at a nearby alleyway and giggled, Alfred had chosen to follow even though it screamed “TRAP!” as obviously as a flamingo in a pack of zebras.
Not to mention...
Alfred touched his neck and found it bare.
Yes. The amulet his grandfather had given him was definitely gone. The other pirates had made no mention of it, and though Alfred wasn’t ready to trust them yet, he knew they were telling the truth. The amulet was made of gold. That alone should have made Gilbert, that gold-loving bastard, say something.
Something crashed into a ship, and Alfred was pulled out of his thoughts. It must have been a cannonball. Alfred looked out the window and saw, as he had thought, the Armada, now a mere fifty feet away from Elizabeth.
I’ve gotten myself into a horrible mess, he thought dejectedly. And the captain didn’t even turn out to be that cute...
“As one of those land-loving army bastards would say, FIRE AT WILL!” he heard Captain Kirkland holler.
Cannons began going off at irregular intervals. Alfred tried to count each time one was fired at this side, but gave up when the bangs grew more frequent next to each other and virtually uncountable. The two sides’ cannonballs crisscrossed through the air and were so numerous Alfred imagined what would happen if two were to hit each other head-on. Just what would happen then?
Occasionally, one of the projectiles would make its way to the target, smashing through its wooden frameworks. Most of the time, however, the cannonballs hit the water with a loud splash and was never seen again. And whether it was because the ships really were not as big as Alfred had thought, or because both sides had horrible aims (and he was willing to place money on the latter), neither side sunk.
“Hard a-port!” the captain would yell enthusiastically, as if he was having the time of his life. “Make speed, now! We don’t want them getting away this time!”
Shivering in the cold, Alfred wondered just how many times Elizabeth had clashed with Armada for them to be two so-called “rivals.”
Then, after about half an hour of this exchange, the Armada suddenly stopped firing altogether. Captain Kirkland laughed gleefully.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is our chance! Our enemy has run out of firepower!” he said. Alfred noticed how perfect his English was, even with the forced fake pirate accent. “This is our time to strike back!”
“Um, Mr. Ki-I mean, captain, sir?” said a voice Alfred recognized as Tino’s.
“What is it?”
But it was Gilbert who answered, “We’re completely out of ammunition as well!”
“What?! I thought I told you to especially stock up on those the last time we went to a black market!”
“Well, do you want to ship to sink or somethin’? I’ve only met one ship so far, and everything is gone! It’s always like this when we meet the Armada. Don’t you even care if what will happen if the royal navy comes along? Actually, while we are on that subject, can’t you stop playing pirate and just-”
“Keep quiet, you weak-bellied worm! You will do what I say on my ship, and follow my orders, because I am the captain! Now, get out them chains! Once we get closer, we’ll reel the ship in and broad. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, aye, capt’n,” said Gilbert sarcastically.
There went all of Alfred’s hopes of settling everything peacefully. Alfred was just about to wallow in despair, because he knew there was little chance that he would leave a close-combat battle between pirates unscathed, before another voice screamed:
“Arthur Kirkland, call off that order right now or there will be hell to pay with this frying pan!”
~.*.~
And so, the order was called off and the two ships parted ways with only minor injuries.
~.*.~
When Alfred walked back up to the deck, he found that, while the sky was still as gloomy and overcast as before, it had stopped raining. He glanced around the ship, taking the wreckage. The top of one of the masts had been struck, and that part was missing. The stern suffered heavy damage and was battered beyond recognition. He gave a low whistle.
“You guys, uh, do this every day?” he asked.
The captain glared at him. “You’re not supposed to be talking,” he muttered. Though her arms were folded, Elizabeta was still holding her weapon and stood next to Arthur as if she might smack him any moment.
The captain suddenly looked like a sullen child.
At the mental image of Captain Kirkland being denied candy and sweets, Alfred suddenly wanted to laugh. But he forced himself to stop, knowing the captain was still looking at him.
“For your question,” Roderich said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, “no, we do not. We only engage in battles when we chance upon some country’s navy or the Armada, which is not very often, fortunately.”
“Not that it matters to you, though,” Gilbert swooped in. He took in a large gulp of what appeared to be a bear bottle and pointed his finger at Roderich. “You are never at the guns when we cross someone anyway, baaa-stard.”
Alfred looked at the man and realized he had not heard Roderich utter a single word the whole time he had been down in the hull. Compared to the others, he was also less dirty with gunpowder and drier than even Alfred.
“That’s because it was not in my job description to fight,” the man with the mole said smoothly. “I am supposed to be the cook.”
“And why is it always Elizabeta who cooks for you for some odd reason, hm?”
Roderich chose to ignore that.
Alfred shook his head and turned away. He needed to ask Arthur something, something that was on his mind ever since he boarded-or, at least, found himself boarded-on this ship. Whether the man would answer or not, he needed to get something straight. Everything else could wait.
“Arthur,” he said and, before the captain could yell at him for using his first time, he continued, “were you once part of the Kirkland house of the West?”
The man’s eyes widened, but this display of surprise was only for a tenth of a second.
“And what if I am?” he asked.
Alfred took a deep breath. This was it.
He knelt down.
“I believe you are the crowned prince of the country.” He looked up and saw that the man’s face had turned pale. “And I believe that I am supposed to be your betrothed.”